


Serpentine Sparks

by Salt00



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Almyra (Fire Emblem), Angst, Animal Instincts, Animal Transformation, Asexual Claude, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dragon!Claude, Dragons, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Huddling For Warmth, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Body Horror, Nonbinary My Unit | Byleth, Platonic Relationships, Possessive Behavior, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Puberty, Secret Identity, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed, Skin Hunger, Specifically Dragon Puberty, Touch-Starved, Trust Issues, Weird Biology, dragon lore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:27:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29962284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salt00/pseuds/Salt00
Summary: Claude's childhood was more bizarre than most, but he made the best of it. It wasn't like he knew anything different. As cruel as the world was (whether judging him for his mother or for his bouts of not-exactly-being-human) at least his parents never blamed him for his oddities. Every child had their quirks. His just so happened to be more scaly than others. After his tenth birthday life mellowed out with the unexplained magic gone from his life. He did his best to leave the past in the past.After an odd spark from the Sword of the Creator, Claude's past returns with a vengeance. Long buried secrets are unearthed whether he is ready for their answers or not.Aka Dragon!Claude AU
Relationships: Claude von Riegan & Sothis, Golden Deer Students & Claude von Riegan, My Unit | Byleth & Claude von Riegan
Comments: 28
Kudos: 79





	1. First We Hurt the Baby. Then We Fix the Baby.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I think I started this back in… Oops, almost a year ago. I *planned* on releasing this after I finished Starlight Vomit back when I thought I was 2/3rds done with that fic… but then SV just kept growing. Then I started Chick Magnet and sorta took a couple of ideas from this fic. I hemmed and hawed about releasing this fic bc it matches some of my other stories a bit closer than I like. Tbf I wrote this one first lol. BUT! I think it’s different enough to still be enjoyable, and I’ve written enough of it that I don’t want it to languish in my WIPs forever. Most of the reused material is copying baby-dragon-Claude’s behavior and importing that over to Noodle-the-baby-wyvern, + Claude’s Trust Issues™. (Not to mention my adoration for snuggle fics. Especially snuggling for warmth. This is basically Snuggle-Or-Die the fic ft.Dragon Weirdness. What can I say, I know what I like.)
> 
> Welcome to my hubris. My regular readers, I'm sure you all know what you're in for. Please enjoy.

Byleth liked the Golden Deer. The class was full of misfits and that suited them just fine. Despite only knowing their students for a few months, they would die for any one of them if it came down to it (not that it ever had). Because they liked their students so much, they pushed everyone hard. The Golden Deer on a whole had less baggage than the other houses. They made up for that by being less polished. 

Hilda was a powerhouse with an axe if only Byleth could motivate her. Lorenz genuinely tried his best, but his ‘best’ regularly insulted everyone in the room. Marianne’s potential in healing was outstanding, hampered by her complete lack of self confidence. Ignatz likewise was a budding archer with stunning accuracy with only slightly better confidence than Marianne. Lysithea caused no end of problems from how she treated her classmates. Leonie’s competitive nature was both a boon and a bane, driving her to try harder but causing her to butt heads with her classmates. Raphael was unmatched in his physical skill and cheerful personality, also unmatched in his abysmal bookwork.

Then there was Claude. Claude, the _one_ student they didn’t think they needed to worry about. Claude, their first friend. He was very competent. He was skilled, charming, and unmatched in his creative brilliance. A month ago their only complaint with him was his streak of mischief, but even that they (secretly and silently) enjoyed.

It changed when Byleth received the Sword of the Creator. The Golden Deer had a penchant to draw new and unfamiliar emotions out of Byleth — Claude the primary culprit. Often it was nice feelings. The feelings Claude evoked from them recently were painful. When he said he didn’t believe that they were clueless how they could wield the sword, all but said he didn’t trust them… that hurt. It was strange. Different. They didn’t like it.

Byleth fell back on old habits to work through the odd sting. They threw themselves into their work — in this case, their student’s studies. They assigned everyone a new skill to master, either rounding out their skillsets or exploring hidden talents. They received plenty of complaints. They expected as much and ignored it.

They didn’t expect Claude’s resistance.

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Claude made no move to pick up a training weapon. He leaned against the wall with his hands clasped lazily behind his head. “Why don’t you put me on sky watch instead? I excel in the air.”

“This isn’t about what you want. This is about what will help you succeed in life. You need a close combat weapon.” They gestured again at the rack of training weapons.

“C’mon Teach, you know me. Have I ever let anyone get close enough that I’d need a melee weapon?”

 _Yes, and you died for it._ But that never happened (not in this timeline) so it wasn’t an example they could use. “There will come a day that your bow won’t be enough.” They cocked their head. “Claude, I don’t understand. You have a talent for swords. You can be equally talented with axes if you want to focus on that. Use a lance or your fists for all I care. Pick something.”

“I’m not looking forward to a failing grade, but you’re forcing my hand here. Close quarter fighting really isn’t my thing.”

Claude, as he often managed, was evoking another rare emotion from them: frustration. Byleth was in no mood to appreciate the novelty of the feeling. They pulled a key from their pocket; specifically, the key to the enclosed training room. Maintaining eye contact with Claude, they locked the door. “This will remain locked until I am satisfied with your progress. Now pick something.”

Claude cocked a grin. “Really Teach? Threats? A game of patience?” He settled down on the ground, crossing his legs. “I can wait all day. All night too. You’re really about to hog the training room for the two of us for that long? Pretty unfair to the other students.”

“This training room is rarely used. You know this.” Byleth specifically chose the most out-of-the-way training area. They knew Claude was reluctant to come to sword practice. They hoped Claude was just feeling self-conscious performing a skill he wasn’t stellar at. Without a chance of onlookers watching him, they hoped he might let go of his reservations.

Their unruly student looked infuriatingly comfortable. Silence stretched between them, nothing but the sound of the harsh summer rain hitting the roof.

They _could_ just start swinging a sword at him until he responded.

An idea came to them. An idea that Claude would be proud of, surely, were he not about to be on the other end of it. “Let’s make a deal. Spar with me and there will be a reward at the end for you.”

Claude chuckled. “Bribery now? That’s cute. You’ll have to try better than that.”

“I’ll let you hold the Sword of the Creator.”

Claude’s laughter sputtered out. “You — what?”

“You heard me. I know you’re interested in the blade. I’ll let you hold it. I’ll let you swing it around if you can prove to me you can use a sword without cutting yourself.” Byleth had never seen Claude look so genuinely conflicted. It was fascinating to watch the war spread across his features. “I’ll even let you hold it while I’m holding it, so you can feel it when it’s active.”

Claude softly cursed to himself, running a hand down his face. “You drive a hard bargain, Teach…” They had him now. He heaved out a sigh, throwing his hands in the air. “Fine, fine. You win this round. I’m proud to see you picking up my scheming ways.” He cocked a grin. “But I’m holding the Sword first, _then_ we practice.

“Very well.” An easy concession. With a flourish, they unsheathed the Sword of the Creator. Gesturing for him to come closer, their lips twitched upward at the excited way Claude scrambled over.

Passing it hilt first, Claude grunted and nearly dropped it. “Wow, lot heavier than it looks. I’m even more impressed with how well you swing this thing around.” He gave an experimental swing, forced to use both hands to hold it. Appraising his form, they could see he had some degree of training in swords despite his reluctance.

“Here.” They moved behind him. Hooking their arms over his shoulder, they replaced one of Claude’s hands with their own.

Claude gasped as the blade lit up in a red glow. They felt him shudder, a low whistle coming from his lips. _“Wow._ So _this_ is a relic…” Byleth lifted the blade, Claude’s arm following. “It’s lighter now. How does that work…?”

They shrugged. “Magic.”

Claude snorted. “Right, of course. Damn, I can practically feel this thing dripping with sparks.” He shuddered again. They didn’t know what he was referring to by ‘sparks’. Perhaps it felt different to him. “What a rush. _Gods above.”_

They let him hold it for a few minutes before pulling it away. “Satisfied?”

He bobbed his head, eyes still fixed on the blade. “Oh yeah. Gotta admit, I thought the power of the hero’s relics were exaggerated. Now I can see how that sword can cut through mountains. Whew.” He let out a long breath, hand over his chest. “My heartbeat is going wild! You’re lucky Teach — I’d kill to be able to use that.” His grin was wide and energetic, a far cry from his usual charming but guarded smiles. His eyes almost seemed to sparkle.

They set aside the Sword of the Creator, picking up a training sword instead. Tossing another at Claude, it nearly smacked him in the face as he caught it last second. 

Claude’s wild grin twisted into something tight. “Right. Time for me to hold up my end.”

Was Claude… nervous? _Surely not._ “I’m well trained with the sword, Claude. I won’t harm you.” _Not yet,_ at least. Usually they gave out plenty of bruises to their students. With Claude as reluctant as he was, Byleth would go extra slow.

“I’m not made of glass Teach. No need to worry about roughing me up.”

 _Not afraid of being injured, then._ “You don’t need to worry about harming me, either. As I said, I am skilled. Anything you can manage with a training blade will not be enough to do any permanent damage.” Claude’s grin tightened ever so slightly. _So that was it._

“One spar and we’re done, yeah?”

They had time to ease him into the training. “For this session, yes. Hm. Good grip. You’ve had some training.”

“A long time ago. I’m real rusty so go easy on me.” He finished with a wink.

“How long ago?” His grip was sturdy but his stance was meant for someone much smaller.

Claude paused and tapped his chin. “Must’ve been… six…? Six years ago? Maybe seven.” He shrugged. “Like I said, no need for sword mastery when I’m amazing with a bow.”

“We go until first blood.” Byleth reconsidered their statement. “Until _you_ achieve first blood on me. Don’t worry, I’ll hold back.”

His grin slipped, brows furrowed and lips pouting in a manner marking him a bratty noble upset at not getting his way. “Seriously? That’s a bit much for a first spar.”

“It isn’t.” Byleth rushed him.

Claude yelped and jumped back. He didn’t bother blocking any of the blows Byleth rained down on him, instead dodging and backpedaling the whole while. It took less than twenty seconds for Byleth to force his back against a wall.

“Stop running,” they commanded, giving Claude a (relatively) slow and easy strike to parry.

“Gah!” Claude ducked under it. He wasted no time turning his duck into a roll, dodging past them. They whirled, expecting an attack at their back. Instead, he edged back into the middle of the arena, focused only on putting distance between them. Claude squandered a perfect opportunity. It wasn’t like him at all.

They were reluctantly impressed with his insistent avoidance. They were also very annoyed. “This will never end if you don’t fight back, Claude. You’re just tiring yourself out.” Byleth charged. Claude could probably outrun them but they weren’t here for a _running endurance_ lesson. They feinted to the left before jabbing out their blade to strike at Claude’s knee. He grunted as his leg gave out, forcing him to kneel.

 **_Clang._ ** Finally Claude parried. Byleth’s weakened overhead strike went flying to the side as he skillfully parried it. “So you _do_ know how to do more than run.”

They took two steps back and allowed Claude the mercy of getting back on his feet. He rubbed his knee, somewhat unsteady. He wouldn’t be running away now.

“Well? Try to hit me.”

Claude visibly swallowed. He took a few deep breaths, then lunged.

He _was_ good with a sword. Rusty, stiff, and using a form meant for someone smaller, weaker, and younger. But he launched smart probing strikes and despite the clunk of his movements, he was decent. A natural. Such a waste that he wasn’t honing his ability.

They let him whack at them for a bit. Whenever Claude worked up to a rhythm, they made sure to exploit that. It was bad to be predictable. The longer their spar went on, the more confident Claude grew. The more confident he grew, the stronger his strikes became. 

Minutes later and they were still going at it, Claude a few bruises richer. Despite how much force Claude put into his blows, he showed no signs of flagging. They eyed his hasty movement. If anything, he was _more_ energized than he started.

A grin unlike anything they were used to from him split his cheeks. Gone were the cunning eyes that caught everything, gone was the constant vigilant lookout. His focus was _wholly_ on the fight. _Ah._ Now they understood. Claude wasn’t the sort to enjoy losing control over himself. It was little wonder he was so reluctant to fight up close knowing this weakness of his.

Byleth was satisfied with the fight despite Claude having yet to land a solid hit on them. His strikes were growing more savage and less controlled. There was no point in continuing now that they had a solid feel for how he fought and what he needed to improve on. They knew the expression Claude wore (though it was strikingly new on his face). If they called the fight, he wouldn’t hear them. He was in his own world now.

They brought the pommel of their blade down on his swordhand, forcing him to drop the sword. A simple solution. A snarl fell from Claude’s lips as he reared back, disarmed.

Byleth opened their mouth to declare the match over. Claude’s posture shifted. A second of shock from them was all Claude needed. Amateur mistake to let down their guard. They _saw_ how he shifted. They recognized what he was about to do. Foolishly they didn’t react. It was _Claude._ Their mind told them what he was about to do and they dismissed it for that important moment. _It was Claude._

Claude lunged at them the same way an animal might, bowling them both over. Their back hit the ground hard. By instinct they raised their arm. Instead of biting into their throat, Claude’s teeth sunk past cloth and deep into the flesh of their arm. His nails scraped at their side, sharp as claws digging into armor. He growled something low and throaty. It was not a human growl.

Byleth brought a knee up and into Claude’s stomach, coaxing a wheeze from him. They wrestled him off balance, flipping and pinning him to the under them. Claude clamped his teeth down further, refusing to let go of their arm. Bringing their free arm across his throat, his airway was cut off. He squirmed underneath them, digging claws between the seams of their armor.

Only when his mouth opened and his teeth released their flesh did they release their hold on his throat, quickly restraining his arms instead. He whimpered and thrashed under them, looking nothing like the student they were used to. Confident in their hold, they examined him.

His eyes were what first stood out. The bright and curious green was brighter than ever — his pupils narrowed into thin black slivers, the whites entirely swallowed by green. The red smear staining his mouth was equally out of place as the too-sharp teeth that barely fit in his mouth. His ears were long and tapered to a knife-point.

Slowly Claude’s squirming stilled. He panted for breath, hazy unfocused eyes slowly blinking. “T…Teach?”

“Back with me, Claude?”

“Huh…?” His slit eyes drifted to focus on them. His muscles twitched, though he didn’t appear to be doing it consciously. “Wha…what happened?”

Cautiously they let go of Claude’s arms. He made no move to attack them again so they rolled off of him. “You lost yourself. What’s the last thing you remember?”

Claude’s eyes followed them, present now but tired as he gasped for breath. His brow furrowed. “I… we were… fighting?” He licked his bloodied lips, tongue long and forked. He froze, body tensing as his eyes bulged. His still-gasping breathing picked up into hyperventilation. 

“You are okay Claude. No one was hurt.” Byleth knew they were out of their depths trying to comfort him. They were the emotional equivalent of a wet brick on a good day — and good days were days Claude stood by their side to muddle through emotions.

Claude scooted back, scrambling to put distance between the two of them. “I—I—I didn’t mean to—did I hurt—are you—!” Panic played across his face, pure and simple. “Stay away!”

Byleth decided then and there they never wanted to see Claude so afraid ever again. Even when they held him dying in their arms (which never _actually_ happened) he hadn’t been so afraid. “You’re safe Claude. I’m not going to hurt you, and you won’t hurt anyone either. You need to breathe.” They raised their hands palm up, proving their lack of weapon.

Claude shook his head, clawed hands reaching to tug at his hair. His nails glimmered gold tipped with red, sharpened to a wicked point. “N-no, no, no no no. I c-can’t, I can’t—” His gasp choked away, his eyes fixing back on Byleth. “I ca-an’t s-stop!” He panted, trembled, eyes squeezed shut. “Not s-supposed to… h-happen anymore!”

“You need to breathe, Claude.”

Then he whimpered.

The sound was so unlike Claude. All of this was so unlike Claude. Byleth carefully moved forward as if approaching a wounded animal. Clutching himself and curled up against the wall, Claude never looked so small as he did now. “Talk to me Claude. What’s wrong?”

 _“Hurts._ ‘S never hurt before…!” A thumping sound drew Byleth’s attention. A slim white scaled tail thrashed against the ground. A slim white scaled tail that came from _Claude._ He writhed and clenched his claws into the dirt. He moaned and bashed his head on the ground. They rushed to stop him as he reared back to slam his head down again. Putting themself between Claude and the hard ground, his head thumped onto their lap.

Claude squirmed again, weakly trying to push away. “No, no… Please, can't…!” Claude grunted and tensed, serpent-like eyes snapping open and latching onto Byleth’s. “T-Teach… don’t kill me, please…!” Claude was _begging._

Byleth squeezed Claude’s (rapidly scaling) hand. “Claude, I will _never_ hurt you. No one else will hurt you. Whatever is happening, I won’t allow you to be hurt. You can trust me.”

Claude’s eyes remained fixed on theirs. Byleth wasn’t sure he believed them but after a few shaky gasps, he jerked a nod. “Okay. O-okay. Hnngh, okay. Trust you.” They could hear the silent _‘not like I have a choice,’_ in his voice.

Claude’s scaled hand clutched down hard on Byleth’s own, drawing blood. He threw back his head and muffled a shout between clenched teeth. His back arched, the ‘small’ tail far longer than it had been, growing ever longer. White scales crept over his face and arms, two antlers beginning to jut from his skull. They held him and let him clutch them as he rode out the pain. His muffled shouts were shifting into something more guttural. Their student looked so small as he curled into himself.

No, he was _becoming_ smaller. His usually loose clothes swamped him. His uniform slipped over his half-scaled shoulder. He squirmed, the hand not clutching Byleth’s reaching to scrabble at his back. There was a crunching sound, followed by more and more wet crunches. Claude hid his face against their thigh. Byleth could feel the way his face was changing shape. It wasn’t just his face changing shape though, his entire body shuddering and jolting as bones noisily rearranged.

A lump pressed against the inside of his jacket. They unclasped his jacket and pulled the loose shirt over his head. Two slim wing-like appendages thrashed weakly. Eyes drifting down to his back, they expected to see more white scales. There were in-fact more white scales. What they didn’t expect was how changed his back was. Despite _knowing_ Claude was shrinking, the sheer change caught them off guard. The flat plain of a human’s back was replaced with a cylindrical body of a snake. Only his shoulder blades were still vaguely noticeable as ridges that his wings extended from under.

Claude shimmied his lower half out of his pants. His legs had shrunk to the point of being almost nonexistent. Their shape was unrecognizable as anything human, resembling that of a lizard or wyvern. His arms and hands were finishing a similar transformation. With one last whimper, Claude went limp. In place of their human student was a snake-like creature. Claude’s body was unrecognizable.

“Claude?”

No reply.

They carefully removed Claude’s claws out of their arm. The archer’s hands only had four fingers now. His nails, now sharpened into long talons, stood out with brilliant gold shining against the white scales of his ‘hands’. His arms had shrunk significantly, the bone structure entirely changed.

Gently as possible they lifted Claude’s face from where he laid against their thigh. His face was rearranged into something half-snake, half-wyvern, fully-unknown. Displaying a proper snout and everything, his human nose was gone. Two budding antlers extended from his head, covered in soft velvet. His ears were long and pointed, the usual earring discarded on the ground. The most jarring part was the lack of his unruly hair. His face was nothing but scales. Moving down, his neck and waist were longer. The only remnants of his shoulders were in the form of the slim plate-like ridges covering his ‘wings’. His body was entirely snake-like aside from the small lizard-like arms and legs. Passed out as he was, his arms and legs were tucked up against his body in a way that would have been impossible with a human bone structure.

His tail was less of a tail now and more an extension of his body. It was long. _He_ was long, longer than he had been tall. Despite his new length, Claude was tiny. The thickest part of his serpentine body was no wider than Byleth’s splayed hand. If he was a snake, he would be considered a large snake, but not the largest.

Along his back were two small wings. Like the rest of him, they were long but impossibly slim. Inside the wings was thin, nearly transparent webbing. They _were_ wings, clearly, but if they allowed Claude to fly Byleth would eat their coat. They were too thin and delicate. Running a hand down the new appendages, Claude remained unresponsive. Smoothing their hand down Claude’s back between the wings, his unconscious body finally reacted. The wings twitched, slim things naturally slotting into the raised ridges of his back. They folded so neatly as to vanish completely. Leaning back and examining Claude on a whole without the wings, he merely looked like a large snake with legs, ears, and antlers.

Byleth had encountered many situations in their short teaching career that they didn’t know how to handle. This was very much one of those situations. 

With nothing but the sound of rain hitting the roof of the training room, Byleth smoothed a hand down Claude’s back. They had a promise to keep.

* * *

Byleth paced. In the corner of their room tucked at the head of their bed was the bundle of blankets they nestled Claude in. From the doorway the nest was impossible to see. They doubted Claude wanted anyone seeing him.

Two hours now since his change. Night would fall soon. They were out of their depths. Did he need a healer? His ‘change’ had been painful. What if something was wrong and he was injured internally? They couldn’t go to Manuela and request her to look at their ‘pet snake.’

Actually… maybe they could. Byleth was known to be eccentric… 

A yawn drew their attention. “My, my… so worked up tonight! How rare to find you in such a state. You are damp from the rain as well! What has you in such a tizzy that you neglected to remove your drenched coat?”

“Sothis.” They nodded to Claude’s blanket pile. “What do I do?”

Sothis frowned, then her eyes shot wide. “I slept through an interesting development, I see.” She floated over to Claude, peering down at his sleeping form. “He’s so young… a child…” She knelt and rested a hand over Claude’s head, unable to truly touch him. “Had you not seen his transformation with your own eyes, I would not believe this to be your student.”

Byleth nodded. They understood the sentiment. 

“Byleth…?” Sothis’ voice was uncharacteristically worried. “Tell me, what is the temperature of this room?”

Byleth cocked their head. “It’s warm?”

“No, no. _How_ warm? It is the end of summer, is it not?”

“It rained today. Somewhat chilly. That’s why I wrapped Claude in blankets.”

“You fool! He is cold blooded! Blankets alone will not keep him warm!”

Byleth blanched at the spike of Sothis’ concern. “So… he’s cold?”

“Yes you imbecile! He’s a _child,_ a young one at that! Far too young to regulate his own temperature!”

That was how Byleth found themself hastily boiling a pot of water at Sothis’ orders. They rearranged Claude’s blanket nest to have hot and wet rags radiate heat through the dry blankets he rested on. Over the rest of the night Byleth changed out the rags every hour, getting very little sleep.

“How did you know this trick?” they asked while dousing new rags. They would have never thought of it on their own.

“I do not know. Ordinarily I would use my own body heat for hatchlings. I was uncertain if your body heat would suffice, rain-wet as you were.”

“Hatchling?”

Sothis opened her mouth, then froze. “Oh. Hm.” She drifted back over to Claude, a frequent habit at this point. “I think…” Sothis carefully began, as if speaking the wrong word would erase the thought from her mind, “I think I was a mother, once. To others like him.” Her face fell. “But a poor mother I must be, to have forgotten my children.”

“Are you a snake-thing too?”

Sothis snapped out of her funk. “Am I a _what?!”_

Byleth gestured to Claude. “Snake-thing. Lizard-snake? Scaly-person? Wyvern-noodle?”

“A _snake._ Such an insult!”

“What are you, then?”

“I—well, I do not remember. But certainly not a snake!”

Byleth hummed. “Claude will know more.”

Sothis sighed. “Yes, we shall have to ask him. When he wakes.”

* * *

_“Kovu? Kovu, where are you?”_

_Kovu grinned to himself, scampering further up the bookshelf._

_“Ah-hah, there you are!”_

_Kovu squawked as papa looked straight at his hiding place. He wiggled deeper into the shadows but it was too late._

_“Come down son, you’ve been hiding long enough.” Papa reached out his arms, inviting him down. “I’ll catch you, my dear little wyvern.”_

_Kovu shuffled, not wanting to come down yet. His hiding spot was cozy and safe._

_Papa lowered his arms. “Not ready to come down, hm? I suppose I’ll be forced to eat your dinner myself…”_

_Kovu cried out, rushing to the edge of his shelf. No! He was hungry…_

_“Oh? Ready to come down now?” Papa lifted his arms back up._

_Kovu wasted no time launching himself into papa’s waiting arms. He curled around papa’s neck, entwining him in a hug._

_Papa laughed, running a hand along his scales. “Someone’s hungry, eh? You know the rules, my son. Only little boys get to sit at the dinner table.”_

_Kovu whined into papa’s shoulder. But papa was right, that was the rule. Wyverns couldn’t sit at the table. Kovu didn’t eat — that was for Khalid. His squeak was exchanged for a whine, little arms hugging papa’s neck. “Papaaaa! Dinner!” Khalid whined, tugging at papa’s beard._

_Papa ruffled his hair. “There’s my boy. Now then, I hear that we’re having your favorite…”_

* * *

Claude woke from his dream to the soft pattering rain against the roof of his room. He was exhausted and cozy and warm. His body _hurt._ Must’ve been a hell of a training session. Everything was sore. He curled up tighter, nestling further into the toasty blankets. His bed was so _warm._ No way was he getting up. He should check the time. Maybe Teach wouldn’t mind his tardiness, just this once.

Who was he kidding, Teach never let anyone get away with being late. He’d seen Hilda punished enough to know that. He cracked open an eye. 

He wasn’t in his bed. Tensing, the unfamiliar environment shot alarm into his system. _Not tired anymore._ Around him was a pile of blankets, situated on the floor. The white carpet marked the room as Teach’s, yet everything about the room was off in a way he couldn’t put his finger on.

Why was he on Teach’s floor? Warily, he started to pick himself off the ground, only to come to the horrific realization that he _wasn’t human._ _No._ He stared down at familiar white scales. He twitched a gold-tipped claw, watching it respond. _This wasn’t supposed to happen anymore._

Memories of his sword-spar with Teach returned with a vengeance. He _never_ lost himself like that. Gods have mercy on him, he transformed _right in front_ of Teach. Only the fact that Teach hadn’t seen fit to kill him while he was passed out kept him from outright panic. He used to ‘slip’ in close combat as a child, but never to the point of violence. He hadn’t accidentally transformed in _years._ Hell, he hadn’t transformed _at all_ in years! That childhood quirk was _supposed_ to be long gone. But with how jittery he felt after holding the Sword of the Creator…

He stumbled out of the blanket pile, looking around. Of course everything looked wrong. It was all bigger. Rather, he was smaller. Upon confirming that he was alone in Teach’s quarters, he took a moment to examine himself.

His body looked exactly the same as he remembered it looking the last time he shifted. He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved that he hadn’t grown in the past eight years. It was convenient to be small. On the other hand, shouldn’t he have grown in all that time? The change of size was jarring. His shifted form was always smaller than his human form, but as a ten year old child he had been a more comparable size to his shifted state than his current adult self. Despite the fact that he had been this size before, it felt so much tinier now.

Shaking himself, he stretched out. As reluctant as he was to admit it, even if only to himself, it was a little nice to revisit the old form. He hadn’t shifted since he was ten — practically an entire lifetime ago. Maybe that was why he transformed the way he did. His transformation never hurt before and it should have been near instant. It was worrying to be forced back into this form regardless.

He eyed the blankets he woke up in. The air was cold, terribly so. He should change back into a human, but the temptation to hunker down in warm blankets and nap for a bit made him hesitate. A terrible idea. He couldn’t help but frown at the urge. It was a _very_ stupid idea. Why was he even considering it? Better to shift back now.

The distinct sound of a key clicking into the door had him bolting back to the corner of the room he woke up in, sliding himself under the blankets and out of sight. Old instincts to hide were still thoroughly in place, it seemed.

“It’s me,” Teach said as the door shut behind them.

Claude peeked enough of his head out of the blankets to confirm it was only Teach. He didn’t move from his cocoon. Though it was childish to feel safe under the blankets, he rationalized that he didn’t want to be seen any more than he had to.

There was a thunk as Teach set a bucket on the floor. They slowly approached him, their hands visible and empty. They crouched down a good distance away from him. It grated to be treated like a startled animal but he couldn’t help but feel relief from it.

“Can you understand me?” Teach asked.

He nodded.

“Are you in any pain still?”

He shook his head.

“Are you…” they paused, a faint look of uncertainty crossing over their usually stoic expression. “Are you still yourself, Claude?”

Claude firmly nodded. 

“Good. Are you warm enough? Do you need anything?”

He was beginning to feel a little cold but it wasn’t bad enough to try and figure out some method to communicate that. He shook his head.

“Okay. Do you know how long you will be as you are? I need to know how long to excuse you from class.”

He snorted. They were taking this well. _Only Teach._ A little reluctant, he pulled himself from under the blankets. He felt naked in front of Teach like this (technically, he was). Teach didn’t bat an eye at his full appearance, but then again, they had all the time in the world to gawk at him when he was passed out.

He closed his eyes and focused, reaching into the little spot deep within himself that allowed him to shift back and forth. It was hard to find after so long neglecting it (and outright ignoring it). The days of shifting without conscious thought died a lifetime ago. He tugged at the feeling, idly hoping turning back into a human wasn’t as painful as his previous change had been.

He opened his eyes and… nothing. He frowned, tugging again at the feeling deep in his chest. Nothing. 

_Oh no._ He tugged again, desperation welling up inside of him. Nothing. 

_He couldn’t change back._

Was it broken? Could that even happen? Futilely tugging one last time, the gravity of his situation began to sink in. _He was stuck._

“Claude?” Teach’s voice brought him back to the present. “Are you alright?”

 _No!_ He was _not_ alright! What if he was stuck like this permanently? He couldn’t speak like this. Growing up, this form was notorious for how weak and useless it was (for anything aside from running and hiding). Back in Almyra he was _barely_ tolerated and that was only by the grace of his parent’s support. Trapped in this form in Fódlan, he wasn’t optimistic about his survival odds.

Teach’s hand came up to cup his face, startling him. They rubbed a thumb along his jaw, which felt oddly nice and a bit calming. “Is this okay?”

He slowly nodded, avoiding eye contact. He couldn’t change back. Maybe he needed rest. As a child he often transformed by accident. He never had issues switching between the two forms consciously, but maybe he was just out of practice now. Sure, it was always something he did by instinct, something he’d been able to do as a _baby,_ but… it would come back to him. _It had to._

Teach’s hand moved from his jaw to stroke between his antlers. That felt _very_ nice but his pride kept him from leaning into the touch. “Are you upset because of my question?”

He quietly huffed, missing the ability to talk already. He wobbled his head side to side, conveying a shrug as best he could.

“Alright. Are you unable to change back?”

He gave a morose nod.

“Okay. Are you hungry?”

His stomach growled. Apparently he was, though he only now noticed.

“I got you fish.” They gestured to the bucket by the door. “I can cook them if you prefer, but…” They glance to the side, staring at the wall. “I don’t know what you can and can’t eat like this.”

He didn’t really know either. He very rarely ate in this form. When he did it was just little snacks that he snuck for himself. Thinking on it, he wasn’t sure he’d ever eaten a full meal in this form. Now that he was stuck, that needed to change. Teach brought the bucket over to him. He was about to charades his way into asking Teach to cook the fish (because _who_ in their right mind ate fish raw?) but then the smell hit him.

 _Gods_ he was so hungry.

Shoving his head in the bucket he chomped down on the first fish his snout came into contact with. It was a big fish. He pulled it out of the bucket and onto the floor and proceeded to demolish it. It was the best fish he’d ever eaten.

“Raw fish is a yes, then.”

He came back to himself at the sound of Teach’s voice. The fish he planned to eat was gone. Because he already ate it. Raw. The _whole_ raw fish, scales and guts and bones and all. And it was _good._

His eyes darted up to Teach, who’s blank expression was faintly tinged with amusement. Amusement was better than horror or disgust. Towards himself he felt a low thrum of dread at his lapse of control. That was the second time he acted without thought. He couldn’t remember if that was normal or not.

They gestured to the bucket. “Help yourself to as many as you want. Let me know if you’re still hungry and I’ll fish some more.” He eyed the bucket. He _did_ want another. Licking his lips, he hesitated and looked back at Teach. “Oh. Hold on.” Teach pulled a mostly-clean plate from the desk and set it in front of him. “I would give you a fork if I thought you could use it.”

A joke? From _Teach?_ It truly was a strange day. Still, he appreciated the plate. It made him feel slightly less like a dog eating scraps off the floor. Gingerly pulling out another fish and setting it on the plate proved to be an exercise of restraint that he barely passed. Glancing back up at Teach, they still watched him.

“Yes?”

He averted his eyes, nudging his plate towards his corner of the room, turning to block his plate with his body. The shambles of his pride prickled him.

“Oh. Would you like some privacy?” He nodded. “I will work on my lesson plan. Let me know when you finish.”

That would do. He bit into the fish, trying to eat as quietly as he could. It wasn’t easy. As a kid, his parents never allowed him to be transformed at the dining table. Their excuse was always that it was _‘rude to be a wyvern at the dinner table’._ As he got older he came to the conclusion that it was just an excuse, not wanting anyone other than family to see the Almyran Prince as a beast. He was starting to see merit in their reasoning though. Even eating carefully, he couldn’t eat the fish in any dignified manner.

While he ate, Teach filled him in on the day he missed. He slept through the night and through most of the day as well, entirely missing class. Teach said they were vague on excusing his absence, hoping Claude could help them come up with a good cover story. Which he would happily do as soon as he was able to communicate better. It was surreal how normal Teach sounded. He was stuck in his weird transformed state, eating a raw fish on the floor, and Teach was just… Teach. 

He finished off the bucket, eating a total of four large fish and two small ones. He could probably eat another large one if it was there, but he was sated. Was this hunger due to his violent transformation? Or did he always have a large appetite in this form and never knew?

His dinner finished, he was cold. He was surprised he wasn’t shivering with how cold he felt. Nestling back into his pile of blankets revealed the warmth was gone. Worse, huddling under the blankets didn’t warm him _at all._

“All done?” Teach asked without looking up.

 _“Wheh.”_ He nearly choked after the sound came from his mouth. Of all the ways he could have replied, why did he have to give off such a pathetic sound?

“Oh. Claude, I’m sorry. I lost track of time.”

Claude cocked his head. Why were they sorry? He coiled himself up tightly, rubbing his scales together and failing to make any warmth out of the friction.

Teach got up and took his plate. “I’ll be back in a moment with water.”

They came back with a full teapot. He wanted to make a crack about Teach enjoying their usual teatime so much that they didn’t care what shape Claude was in, but unfortunately he still couldn’t talk. They didn’t make tea though, instead pulling out rags and pouring the hot water over them.

“I’m going to move you.” Teach hefted the whole bundle of blankets he laid in onto their bed. If he still had eyebrows, they would have hit his forehead. Underneath his blankets was a collection of wet rags that Teach replaced with the recently doused ones. Settling him and his blankets back down over the rags, he hiss in satisfaction at the heat.

Teach sat down on their bed, yawning. Looking closer, dark bags rested under their eyes. _“Wheh,”_ he wheezed again. He really needed to work on his vocabulary.

“Still cold?” He shook his head. “Too hot?” Another shake. “…We need to figure out a better communication system.” _Nod._

He flopped his head down on his blanket and closed his eyes as if he was going to sleep. Then returned to his normal posture, cocking his head and gesturing towards Teach.

“Are you tired?” Head shake. “Are you asking if I’m tired?” Nod. “Oh. A bit. I’m fine. It’s evening, so I’ll take a small nap. Wake me when your blankets get cold. That should be roughly an hour from now.” Head shake. He wasn’t an _infant._ He didn’t need to be coddled. He could deal with a little chill. “I’m serious Claude. You aren’t able to make your own heat right now. You will die if you get too cold.”

That seemed _way_ too extreme. He never had that problem back in… oh. He never had that problem back in _Almyra,_ where even the cold season didn’t get as cold as Garreg Mach’s summers. Dying of the cold in summer… what a pathetic way to go. But waking Teach every _hour?_ That was too much. He shook his head again. There had to be a better way.

“There’s no sun out to bask under. I could take you to the common room and settle you by the fireplace, but I assume you don’t want to be seen.” Teach stared at the wall for a few moments, deep in thought. “It’s either the rags or resting against me for my body heat.”

Claude was grateful that his reptilian body couldn’t blush.

“I know body heat would be easier,” Teach mumbled to themself. “I grew up with mercenaries — of course I don’t mind. We did that sort of thing all the time. But—” Teach cut themself off, shaking their head. “I’m getting enough sleep. I just want him to be comfortable.”

Teach _definitely_ was not getting enough sleep if they were talking to themself. It was his fault they were running themself ragged too. He half-crawled half-slithered out of his warm blanket nest, annoyed at how difficult moving was. It used to be second-nature to move but now it was like trying to walk underwater. He eased himself onto Teach’s bed, lightly nudging Teach’s side with his face.

“Oh. Are you fine with sharing body heat?”

Not really. The fact that Teach knew he was uncomfortable with physical contact at all was alarming. That was one of the many facts he kept close to his chest, but as always Teach managed to see right through him. If he trusted anyone at all, even if only a little, it was Teach. They proved themself worthy of at least a grain of trust. If they wanted him dead, they had ample opportunity during his small coma. They were nothing but accommodating and supportive despite the weirdness of his situation (so far). _Which was suspicious and warranted caution,_ he reminded himself.

Regardless, he nodded.

“Okay. Let me know if you change your mind.” They loosened their collar, patting their shoulder.

Carefully he eased his way up onto Teach’s shoulder, loosely coiling his upper body twice around their neck. The rest of his body slipped beneath their tunic, trailing down to curl around their waist three times. Teach _was_ warm, just as warm as his blanket pile had been. Warmer, even.

“Comfortable?”

Claude nodded, unintentionally giving a content hum. He made an inquisitive sound.

“I’m comfortable too, if that was what you were asking.”

He nodded. Settling his head against Teach’s neck, bricks of fatigue pelted him. Despite just waking up from an entire day of sleeping, the call of sleep tugged at him. Between his residual tiredness from the transformation, having just eaten, and being very comfortable and warm and safe, it only took Teach laying down to fall asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Byleth: Hm. I don’t think this is normal. But I don’t know enough about normal human behavior to be certain.  
> Claude: *turns into a dragon*  
> Byleth: Hmmm… /pretty/ sure that’s abnormal… but I could be wrong… 
> 
> Claude looks like a Eastern dragon, minus the ‘facial hair’ aspect that most eastern dragons have. Much more serpent-like than traditional European dragons (or as a random example, the Immaculate One). Think BotW style dragons (but tiny). He also has long but thin wings, though they fold into his back so as to be hidden/protected when not in use.


	2. Fashionable Scarf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T-T Only one chapter and Noodle-Claude already has fanart! Thank you everyone for all the feedback so far ^-^  
> [Dragon Claude doodle](https://gyazo.com/a1058f9b947c9c01316a4951748e3648) by Nekno.   
> (Nekno I love you and will die for you, thank you! This just goes to show I can be bribed into releasing a chapter early ;3)

(Age 3)

_ Khalid bounced up and down. Papa was letting him help groom Auntie Noora! Khalid was very small, and Auntie Noora was  _ huge, _ so Khalid couldn’t do it all by himself. But that was okay, because papa didn’t need very much help. _

_ He ran up to Auntie Noora and patted her snout. She greeted him with a sniff and a snort. He giggled as hot air rolled over him. Papa and mama said they brought him around Auntie Noora a lot when he was a baby, but he didn’t remember any of it (unfair!). Papa said it was so Auntie Noora would know she was Khalid’s auntie.  _

_ Khalid patted Auntie Noora’s scales. “Gonna be nice ‘n clean, Auntie Noora! The cleanest!”  _

_ Papa chuckled. “That’s right! How’s my favorite girl?” Papa scratched under Auntie Noora’s chin. She chuffed, leaning into his touch. _

_ Khalid busied himself by trying to climb onto Auntie Noora’s back. He heaved himself up a few inches before falling onto the hay floor with an  _ oof.  _ Auntie Noora moved her head from papa and nudged him with her snout. She licked at his face. “No! Gross! Heehee!” _

_ “Khalid, remember what you promised?” _

_ Khalid squirmed away from Auntie Noora’s tongue. “Uh-huh! Gotta be extra bee-haved!” _

_ “Is climbing all over Auntie Noora being ‘extra behaved’?” _

_ “Umm… yeah!” _

_ Papa ruffled his hair. “Silly boy. She is not a bookshelf for you to climb on.” _

_ “Okay!” _

_ Papa pulled out some brushes. He explained things to Khalid. He  _ tried _ to listen, but Auntie Noora was distracting! Wyverns were the  _ coolest!

_ Khalid interrupted papa, pointing to Noora’s wings. “Papa, where’re auntie’s arms? Am I gonna lose my arms when I get as big as her?” Papa was slow at answering, but that was okay, because Khalid was only paying attention to Auntie Noora now. “Auntie Noora, what do you look like as a person? Are you a pretty lady? Wanna see please!” _

_ She just stared at him. _

_ “Papa, Auntie Noora’s being mean and ignoring me!” _

_ “She isn’t ignoring you. She cannot speak.” _

_ Khalid gasped. “Oh no! I’m sorry auntie! Did she lose her voice in a battle? Is that where she lost her arms too?” _

_ “No, my son. Wyverns do not speak.” _

_ “Oh yeah! I knew that, ‘cause I can’t talk either… But I have arms!” _

_ “That you do. You are a very special wyvern.” _

_ Khalid preened. “Auntie turn into a lady so she can speak, please! Please please!” _

_ “She cannot do that either, my son. Noora is only a wyvern. Not a lady.” _

_ “Oh. Okay. I’m sorry you can’t speak, Auntie Noora.” She didn’t appear sad over her lack of speech. _

_ Khalid shifted into Kovu. Auntie Noora startled, staring at him with wide eyes. Papa laughed. Kovu chirped at Auntie Noora. She continued to stare at him. Papa looked down at him, smiling. “Trying to talk to Noora, hm?” _

_ Kovu nodded, chirping again at Auntie Noora. She cocked her head, sniffing him. His arms were too short to pet her snout now, so he rubbed his face against hers. She rumbled a growl. It was a growl Kovu had never heard before. He tried to mimic it but he wasn’t very successful. She had a very big and deep growl! _

_ Papa snatched him up. Auntie Noora growled again. He tried to agree; it was very rude of papa to pick him up like that! “Noora, you remember Kovu. What’s wrong?” Kovu wiggled in papa’s arms. Papa said a word mama told him to never repeat. “Stop wiggling, my little wyvern.” _

_ Kovu whined. He wanted to chirp at Auntie Noora more. She lashed her tail a lot. Kovu slipped out of papa’s hands. He could wiggle his tail like her too! Papa said another word Kovu wasn’t supposed to hear. He slithered up to Auntie Noora’s side, nuzzling her. She smiled at him, showing off her big teeth. Kovu was impressed. _

_ “Noora!” Kovu turned to look at papa. Papa hated shouting. Auntie Noora shoved him. He tumbled forward to papa’s feet, surprised. Papa scooped him up, cradling him. “Are you alright, my son?” _

_ Kovu nodded, a little dazed. Was Auntie Noora trying to play, maybe? Kovu didn’t like her game. He turned to Auntie Noora. Her snout was held high, eyes glaring at him. She made him feel very tiny. He tucked his face against papa. He didn’t like that look. _

_ Kovu shifted. “Did I do something bad, papa?” His voice wobbled. “I wasn’t gonna climb her again, promise!” _

_ “Shh, shh, be calm my son. No tears now, no tears.” _

_ Khalid sniffled. “‘M not crying.” _

_ Auntie Noora made a rumbling trill. She moved to sniff him. Papa tensed and held him tightly. Auntie Noora sniffed him again, then licked at his tears. _

_ Papa sighed. “Perhaps it is for the best if you are only Khalid around her.” _

_ “B-but… she’s a wyvern, ‘n I’m a wyvern…” _

_ “You are a very special wyvern, my son. Perhaps she does not recognize you.” _

_ “That’s not fair!” He slapped auntie’s scales to get her attention. “I’m a wyvern like you! I’m Kovu too!” Looking her right in the eyes, he shifted. _

_ Auntie Noora flinched back from him, her wings flaring out. Her mouth parted and she rumbled a scary noise. Auntie looked a lot bigger now…  _

_ “Noora! Heel!” Auntie flinched again, still rumbling. Her head lowered, but she still inched closer. “Noora, you will listen to me!  _ Heel!” _ Everyone always listened to papa. Auntie always listened to papa. But not this time. Stalking closer, inch by tiny inch, her wings again flared out. “Kovu, turn back this instant!” _

_ With a whine, he turned back and burst into tears. Auntie’s scary rumbling stopped. Khalid buried his face into papa’s chest and squeezed his eyes shut as he wailed. _

_ “Shh, shh… It’s okay, you’re safe my son.” Papa rocked him back and forth. Auntie softly cooed. It was a better sound. “Noora…” _

_ He screamed as something scaly shoved him and papa, throwing them both to the ground. Papa’s arms stayed around him, but then scaly arms wrapped around him too. Auntie hummed and nuzzled the back of his head. _

_ “Nothing to fear son, shh… Just stay as Khalid. Can you do that for me, son?” He nodded as he cried. “Noora won’t hurt you. She’s your auntie, she loves you. Can you look up?” _

_ Whimpering, he looked up for papa. Auntie nuzzled her big head against him, cooing a nice noise. Her growl made him scared, but her coo was nice and safe. He liked auntie’s nice rumbles. Her tongue peeked out a tiny bit and lapped at his tears.  _

_ “See? Oh, Noora dear. Did Khalid scare you too?” _

_ “M-me?” _

_ “Mmm. Remember she is only a wyvern, not a lady. She doesn’t know Khalid and Kovu are the same. Sweet girl, were you afraid Khalid vanished?” _

_ Auntie whined, still snuggling up against him and papa. He stopped crying, hugging his arms around auntie’s face. She settled down, laying her face on papa’s chest beside him. _

_ “Like you and mama?” _

_ “Hm? Your mama and I would be quite frightened if you vanished, yes.” _

_ “Huh-uh. ‘Bout me ‘n Kovu. ‘Cause when I was a baby you didn’t know I was Kovu too and got scared.” _

_ Papa rubbed down his back. “Who told you that?” _

_ “Uncle Nader.” _

_ “Your uncle needs to learn to keep his mouth shut. But yes. Your mama and I feared you were… gone, when you shifted into Kovu the first time.” Papa ruffled his hair, scrubbing his fingers down Khalid’s scalp. “My little bundle of surprises. I’m sure your auntie was merely worried for your safety. Do you feel better?” _

_ Khalid sniffled. “Uh-huh. Auntie… I’m Kovu, you don’t gotta be scared!” _

_ Papa squeezed him. “Don’t shift. Don’t shift now, Khalid.” Clearing his throat, papa continued with a calmer tone. “Noora has had enough fear today. Do not shift around her, do you understand? She is very protective over you. She may blame Kovu if you disappear in front of her. Wyverns are smart, but they do not always understand what we tell them.” _

_ “Oh… Okay.” It wasn’t fair that Auntie Noora didn’t like Kovu. But it was only because she was scared! Papa wasn’t scared of Kovu, so Auntie Noora just needed a little bit of time. Like mama and papa. _

_ “Great. Noora. Khalid is safe, as you can see, smell, feel, and taste.” Auntie continued to lick his cheeks with the tip of her tongue. “Now get off of us. Noora. Off.” _

_ Auntie rumbled softly, wrapping her tail snuggly around Khalid and papa. Even though papa told her to get off, she stayed on. Auntie was being very bad at listening to papa. “Auntie, papa’s gonna send you to your room if you don’t get off!” He didn’t want her to get a time out! _

_ Papa chuckled. “Are you comfortable, son? She cares very much about your safety. I suspect she will continue to guard you for, oh… a few hours at least.” _

_ “Oh. Are you guarding me too papa?” _

_ Papa moved slightly. Auntie grumbled and roughly licked papa’s face, then headbutted his shoulder. Khalid giggled at papa’s unhappy glare. “I sure am son. She wrapped around us both, as you see. Neither of us are going anywhere until she decides to let us.” _

_ “Oh. Like when you tell mama to do something, but then she glares at you and makes you do it instead? ‘Cause you’re her husband, but not the boss of her!” She said that a lot. No one told mama what to do, not even papa. _

_ “Er. Yes. Like that.” He cleared his throat. “We have some time to kill. Let’s see, what to do…?” _

_ Khalid gasped. “Story time! Story time! Please please!” _

_ Papa smiled softly. “Ah, story time! Excellent idea. Hm, let’s see… Once upon a time, there was a white camel…”  _

* * *

He woke to the feeling of being moved. In response his body tightened, unwilling to let go of the precious warmth. “I need to get ready for class, Claude.” Teach’s voice cut through his hazy half-asleep state.

He grumbled. But as he blinked awake, the contents of the previous day came back to him. Shaking his head, he loosened his hold on Teach. He couldn’t convince himself to move, though. Teach went about their routine with him still clinging to them. 

“We need to discuss how I should explain your absence.”

Feeling more awake, he nodded. Ideas to help with communication swam through his head. Reluctantly slithering off of Teach, he crawled his way onto their desk. A handful of papers scattered the surface and a quill sat in its inkwell. As a child he practiced writing on rare occasions with his clawed hands. His handwriting had been abysmal at best and a giant mess of spilled ink at worst. But if he could manage even slightly legible writing, that would be enough to communicate the information he needed. Easier said than done now that he only had four fingers. Calling them ‘fingers’ was rather generous as well — talons was more accurate. Still, he remained determined. Very carefully he picked up the quill. In the margins of Teach’s class plans he started to write.

**_“DISTANT FAMILY EMERGENCY”_ ** he wrote in shaky, blocky letters. It was the equivalent of a young child’s handwriting. He couldn’t manage the pressure at all, tearing the paper and leaving ample blots of ink everywhere.  **_“NOT RIEGAN SIDE”_ ** It would be bad to imply his grandfather’s sickness was taking a turn for the worse.

“Okay. A ‘distant family emergency’ came up and you had to leave. I see. I’ll say you didn’t mention when you would be back.”

He nodded. It struck him how much of a limb Teach was going out for him. If he couldn’t turn back into a human, Teach would be the one to suffer for his absence as the last to have seen him. He refused to believe this form was permanent though.

Teach left warm rags under his blanket pile, something he would need to hunker down in soon. The morning air was  _ cold. _ “I’m heading to class. I’ll be back at lunch. If you need anything…” Teach glanced away, staring blankly at the wall for a moment. “If you need anything just stay here. Make a little noise and I’ll come.”

He gave them a flat look he hoped conveyed his thoughts. Making ‘a little’ noise wouldn’t be enough to alert them all the way in the Golden Deer classroom.

Their eyebrows twitch a fraction downwards. “Just trust me. I can’t explain it, it’s…” They huffed. “It’s a sixth sense.”

They left and Claude had nothing left to do but curl up in the nice warm blankets.

…He had nothing to do.

He snuggled deeper into the blankets, resolving to take a nap. Unfortunately, having just woken up, he wasn’t tired at all.

He was bored.

His thoughts spiraled. Theories about how and why his old shifting abilities were flaring up again came and went through his head. He let out an embarrassing squeak of frustration. At least no one was around to hear.

With nothing better to do, morning meditation it was. It turned out to be a good idea, centering him and clearing his head. He was finding it difficult to focus though. His mind kept straying, every tiny thought catching his attention like a butterfly fluttering past his nose. Meditation hadn’t been this miserable since he was a kid. More than miserable.  _ Frustrating. _   


Better to get up and do something before his mood soured too much.  _ Stretching. Stretching was a good idea.  _ He unfurled his wings for the first time in ages. As he re-acquainted himself with walking around in his serpentine body, the old muscle memory slowly trickled back to him.

He focused on the magic within himself that allowed him to transform. Like the day before, it was like trying to grab wind.  _ Nothing. _ He didn’t understand it (and that was infuriating in a way he found difficult to control). Loudly huffing, his claws dug into the rug. The  _ stupid _ mystery of his  _ stupid _ weird  _ not-wyvern _ form was  _ supposed _ to be over and done with. Whatever the  _ hell _ he was shouldn’t  _ matter _ anymore! He was  _ supposed _ to be  _ only _ human now! His time as a  _ whatever-the-hell-he-was _ only lived on as awkward stories accidentally brought up at dinner, followed by his parents quietly changing the subject. He was  _ human, _ the only sign of his time as a  _ Gods-damned-mystery-creature _ was the scar on his chest.

All those years of  _ wondering _ and  _ guessing _ were  _ supposed _ to be over! No more fear of  _ ‘what if he gets sick? A doctor won’t know how to heal him’ _ or _ ‘is he supposed to grow like that? What do we do? He won’t eat’  _ or  _ ‘is he supposed to sleep this much?’ _ or  **_‘by the Gods, what_ ** **is** **_that_ ** **thing?!’** Life was  _ supposed _ to be  _ predictable _ now! He was  _ normal! Human! Self-sufficient! _

Fangs tore into his blanket, tearing a long rip as a squeaky growl echoed around the room. He headbutted the wall, slapping his wings on the ground. His length twisted until he was coiling in on himself, writhing as he looped his body around itself and roughly scraped together his scales.  _ Everything was ruined!  _ He couldn’t be Heir to Riegan as a  _ fucking snake-thing! _ He couldn’t do  _ anything _ like this! All his hard work, his  _ dream, _ all his suffering was for  _ nothing! _ A book thumped onto the ground as his tail slammed into Teach’s desk. He rammed his antlers into a bedpost, wrapping his mouth around the wood and sinking his teeth as far as possible. His  _ pathetic _ body couldn’t even  _ growl _ properly! He only gave off unthreatening  _ baby _ squeaks, which  _ made him angrier! _

_ He was throwing a tantrum.  _ The thought cut through his haze like a bucket of ice. Nothing made anger vanish quite like fear. Forcing his body to still, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to breathe past it all. Breathing exercises were apparently extra difficult with a chunk of wood in his mouth. Unwedging his teeth proved to be a challenge that took all his focus.

The task of freeing his teeth was a much needed distraction. By the time he was finally free, the anger was a distant feeling. Trepidation, on the other hand(claw)? He didn’t cause much damage (this form was so weak), but eyeing the ripped blanket reminded him he  _ just threw a tantrum. _

_ Okay. _ He was stressed. Understandable! If he really was stuck like this forever, his life might be over. Or worse. But that was a big  _ if! _ He needed to stay calm.  _ Rational.  _ Apparently his 10-year-old dragon body was still a 10-year-old. It wasn’t the end of the world. His emotions were a little more volatile now, that was all. Now that he was aware of it, his  _ eighteen-year-old mind _ would prevail. How did he deal with the oppressive fear of the unknown as a child?

…Looking back, a lot of his coping mechanisms were kind of messed up.

Time to distract himself! Right after burying his face under his blanket and squeaking out his mortification.  _ He threw a tantrum.  _ Thank the Gods no one was present to see him.

Boredom overrode self-pity. He didn’t do well with forced idleness. Nosing around Teach’s room revealed that they were an  _ agonizingly  _ boring person. He scrambled his way up onto their desk. Given his length (5’9? 5’10? He couldn’t remember exactly how long he was last time mama measured him all those years ago), his tail coiled on a nearby chair to give him enough room to write. Collecting (with difficulty) some mostly-blank scraps of parchment, a quill, and an inkstone, he began practicing his penmanship. 

Absentmindedly he gnawed on a tea spoon that he found. At some point it wasn’t in his mouth anymore. It hadn’t fallen on the floor. He came to the conclusion that he accidently swallowed it.  _ Oops. Hopefully that won’t be a problem…  _ He went back to his writing, slowly making progress in legibility. A whetstone found its way into his mouth to gnaw on. Thankfully it was too big for him to accidentally swallow. He was weirdly hungry. He never  _ used _ to get hungry like this. He  _ really _ wished there was a manual or  _ something _ about whatever he was. The fear of the unknown was distracted by his odd desire to swallow the whetstone. He didn’t, obviously. But he was tempted.

His eyes were half-lidded when the door unlocked. He wasn’t sure how long he had been writing for, but he was feeling drowsy.  _ At least his emotions were level again. _ “What did I tell you last night?” Teach’s voice scolded him as they scooped him off their desk. He didn’t even hear them enter the room.

_ Gods _ Teach was warm. He pressed himself up against any exposed skin that he could find. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until now.

“This is serious Claude. You  _ need _ to keep yourself warm.”

He huffed. He was  _ fine. _ Just a little sleepy. He squirmed his way out of Teach’s warm arms as a point, settling back onto the desk. He took up the quill and wrote out a message.  **_“Lunch already?”_ **

Teach shook their head. “As your teacher I should be happy you’re studying, I suppose. Your penmanship is greatly improved. No, it isn’t lunch yet.” They pinned him with a faint look of disappointment. “My ‘sixth sense’ was going off. Can’t you practice your writing in the blankets?”

And get ink all over his sheets? Claude was a messy person by nature, but he had standards. 

“You’re coming back to class with me.” He squawked. He couldn’t be seen like this, Teach knew that! “No one has to know who you are. No one will attack you. They’ll have to go through me first. This will be easier for both of us. Besides, this way you won’t be missing lessons.”

He wanted it on the record that he didn’t like this idea. Having Teach see him like this was already pushing it.

“I won’t have you freezing to death under my watch Claude. Your wellbeing comes first.”

**_“Won’t Freeze”_ ** he jotted down and gave them a pointed glare.

“I know you won’t, because you’re coming with me.”

He threw back his head and groaned.  _ Tried  _ to groan. It came out as a squeak,  _ because of course it did. _ It was clear they weren’t budging. Their confidence about him freezing was beginning to grate at him anyways.  _ Would _ he freeze to death? It seemed ridiculous, but in truth he didn’t know. Teach seemed certain he would. He huffed and finally gave a petulant nod of his head. 

“Is there something I can refer to you as? I assume you don’t want me saying your name. But I would rather not refer to you as ‘Wyvern-noodle.’”

_ Wyvern-noodle?! _ Well, it wasn’t exactly inaccurate… He considered the question. The easy answer niggled at him, but he was wary to give up his other name. What was the harm? Teach already knew one of his most damning secrets. Knowing his very-foreign-sounding name wouldn’t give them any extra dirt on him. 

**_“Kovu”_ ** Writing the four simple letters was like admitting his deepest secret.

“Kovu. Understood. Ready to go, Kovu?”

He was left reeling at the sound of his name. It was  _ nice _ to be called the familiar name, as dangerous as it was. He hadn’t heard the name in years, even before he came to Fódlan. As far as everyone was aware (himself included), ‘Kovu’ died a long time ago.

Nodding, he slithered up Teach’s outstretched arm. They removed the hard metal armor that rested on their shoulders, leaving it open for him to curl around. Like the night before, he coiled once around their neck and sunk the rest of himself below their shirt collar and down their back. He wrapped around their waist, pleased to note they had loosened the armor around their stomach just enough for him to comfortably fit.

He had to admit he felt… safe. He was mostly hidden, only his throat and face exposed. Teach’s hair was long enough to cover the back of their neck and by proxy covered where he slipped under their tunic. Their billowing cloak hid the lump he made along their spine. The armor around their waist not only hid where he coiled, it also gave him a sense of protection. Nestled between the soft fabric of their baggy tunic and the warmth of their flesh, he was downright cozy. With his arms tucked along Teach’s back and his wings hidden in their sheathes, He figured he pulled off the ‘weird looking snake with antlers’ disguise perfectly.

Teach patted his head. “Ready to go?”

Claude nodded. As ready as he would ever be.

* * *

Despite how reluctant Claude had been to leave their room, he seemed very comfortable as they walked back to the classroom.

Byleth was impressed with Claude. They were impressed for all the wrong reasons.  _ Somehow _ their student was a master at drawing uncomfortable emotions out of them. Worry ate at them while Claude was passed out. They thought things would be better when he woke up, and they were — for a few hours. Whenever Byleth couldn’t be in the room Sothis made sure to keep an eye on Claude.

Which was how they knew by the second hour of class that Claude had been out of his bed the entire time. Apparently Claude threw a fit. Sothis was  _ supposed _ to get them if he needed help, but the spectral girl had been too busy failing to comfort their suffering student. After Claude calmed down, he poked around their room before giving off a few “adorable” noises and suffering from acute boredom. Sothis was very biased, Byleth was coming to learn, as nearly everything concerning Claude’s new form was some form of adorable or cute.

Sothis downright coddled Claude as best she could. Which meant pestering Byleth.  _ ‘He needs warmer water!’ ‘Talk to him more, it’ll encourage speech!’ ‘His blankets need to be puffed up again!’ ‘He needs to eat at least once every two days. Lots of fish. Keep fishing, he needs more fish than that! Fill the bucket!’ ‘He needs something to teeth on.’ ‘Pat his snout! No, wait, between the antlers! Give him more pets! Why aren’t you petting him for me Byleth?! Hatchlings need a lot of physical contact! Pet him now! This is a medical emergency!’ _

Despite how unbearably annoying Sothis was, Byleth didn’t know what they would do without her. They had no clue how to help a… whatever Claude was. However Sothis came about her knowledge, they were grateful for it.

Still, it would be nice if Sothis could do all the fussing herself. Though maybe that would be worse. Claude barely tolerated their low level of fussing as it was. Beyond that, Byleth figured it was only a matter of time before Sothis tried convincing them to up and adopt Claude. If Sothis had a body herself, she would have figured out some way to have the adoption papers signed already.

Stepping back into the classroom, they took note that most of the class wasn’t focused on the study material they left. Hilda was dozing at her desk. Raphael was snacking on food. Leonie was artfully lobbing small chunks of paper at Lorenz. Lorenz himself was attempting to study the material, but was having a difficult time due to distractions. Ignatz was equally distracted, his eyes darting nervously between Leonie and Lorenz. Marianne might have been studying, but she also might have been staring down at her paper and having a panic attack. Byleth was not the best at reading faces. Lysithea was studying, at least.

Byleth stood back at their podium and cleared their throat. 

“Welcome back prof—what is  _ that!?” _ Lorenz yelped, jerking backwards and nearly falling out of his chair.

“My apologies for stepping out, class. We can continue.”

“P-professor, are you aware there’s a snake around your neck?” Lysithea slowly asked, looking oddly pale.

“He isn’t a snake.”

The class was silent for a moment. “Professor, can I be excused? I think I’m coming down with something,” Hilda wheezed, her face also oddly pale.

“You have used all of your excused absences for the month already. Sit back down.” Impressive, considering it was still the first week of the month.

“I-is it poisonous?” Ignatz asked with a shaky voice.

“Is he friendly?” Raphael asked with a cheerful and curious tone.

“Yes,” Byleth replied.

“Eep!” Ignatz, who was in the front row, scrambled backwards.

“Oh. Yes, he is friendly. I am uncertain if he’s poisonous.” They looked down at Claude. “Are you poisonous?”

Claude flicked out his tongue. His eyes narrowed and his mouth curved ever so slightly. Byleth wasn’t the best at reading faces, but they were getting very good at reading (snake-like)Claude. For a reptile, he was very expressive. Claude nodded his head up and down.

“He’s not.”

Claude huffed, displeased at Byleth calling his bluff.

“That  _ thing _ can understand you?!” Hilda all but shouted.

Byleth frowned, giving their best ‘disappointed’ look. They were still working on that particular look, but Claude always said it was very motivating to not see it. “He isn’t a ‘thing’. He has a name. Everyone, this is Kovu. Kovu, say hello.”

Claude lifted his head from their shoulder and darted out his forked tongue.

“Close enough. Anyways, Kovu is my closest friend. He is very intelligent, and yes, he can understand speech. He was bored so I brought him to class.” Technically Claude was their  _ only _ friend.

Claude tucked his head back onto their shoulder.

“D’aww, he’s embarrassed! Such a widdle cutie,” Sothis cooed at their other shoulder. “He must not have known you consider him a close friend.” Ridiculous. Claude wasn’t that dense.

“You have a pet snake,” Lorenz stated, his mouth partially hung open.

Byleth frowned. “He is not my pet. He is his own self. And I already said he isn’t a snake.”

“What is he, then?” Lysithea asked.

Byleth shrugged.

“None of us should be surprised,” Hilda grumbled into her hands. “This is the professor we’re talking about. They could come to class riding a bear and I wouldn’t be shocked.”

_ Hm, not a bad idea—  _

“Don’t even think about it,” Sothis hissed right in their ear.

_ Fine. _

“U-um… H-h-hello, um, Kovu,” Marianne stuttered. “Nice to meet you?”

Claude perked up and gave a smile-like expression towards Marianne.

“Any other questions, or can I get back to my lesson plan?”

Silence.

* * *

The class filed out for lunch. 

Byleth patted Claude’s head. “Hungry?”

“He’s not hungry. If he says he is, he’s lying,” Sothis said. “He won’t need to feed for another day.”

Claude nodded eagerly.

“He’s going to get fat at this rate,” Sothis huffed, crossing her arms.

“Do you want to try cooked food, or would you rather I fish for you?” They didn’t have much time to fish, but they could probably get one or two before they needed to return to class.

Claude made a little chirp. Byleth didn’t know how to interpret it.

“‘Cute’. You are supposed to interpret his chirp as  _ cute. _ ‘Adorable’ is another acceptable answer. Obviously. What would you do without me? He chirped because you did not give him a yes or no question,” Sothis said with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh. Would you like to try cooked food?”

Claude nodded.

Byleth glanced at Sothis.

“It should be fine. I think? Fish would be healthier, but cooked food shouldn’t hurt him.”

In the dining hall they selected Gronder meat skewers for them both. The cook looked at them oddly but otherwise didn’t comment. Remembering Claude’s embarrassment at eating in front of them the day prior, they returned to the classroom to eat in private.

Claude settled at one of the empty desks, his lower half coiled on the chair. When he glanced up at them they turned away to respect his privacy, facing the blackboard as they ate. 

“He’s trying so hard,” Sothis relayed to them. “He is attempting to use his talons to grip the skewer but he keeps dropping it. Oh, it appears he has given up!”  Byleth glared at her.  “Oh come now, he is unaware I am watching. Besides, he is a hatchling. He has nothing to feel embarrassed over. So mature for his age!”

_ He’s eighteen, _ they wanted to say.  _ He’s an adult. _

“Eighteen! An adult for a human, perhaps. But for a, for a… whatever he is, eighteen is very young!” Claude made a happy little noise, the sound of chewing the only other sound in the room. “D’aww, he likes it! Not as much as he liked that fish, but still. Such a hungry little sweet baby boy, yes he is…!” Byleth was very glad Claude couldn’t hear Sothis. They were beginning to feel embarrassed on his behalf. “Tell him to finish up! He’s getting cold again, I can tell.”

_ Let him eat in peace. _

“Hmph. Should he fall asleep at that desk, I am saying I told you so.”

Claude did not fall asleep at the desk, though he was noticeably drowsy by the time he finished eating. Before Byleth offered Claude their shoulder again, the door creaked open. Marianne peeked her head through the doorway. It was early for the students to be coming back to class… 

“It is 11:17. Your students have another 43 minutes left to their lunch period,” Sothis rattled off for them. She always knew the exact time.

“U-um, a-are you b-busy, professor?”

“I am not. Come in.”

Marianne entered but didn’t approach them. Instead, she approached Claude. Unlike the other students, she didn’t seem afraid of him. Rather, she didn’t seem any  _ more  _ afraid of him than she did of anything.

“Um, I’m sorry, um, Kovu, for how everyone treated you today.” Marianne looked down at her shoes, wringing her hands together. “They didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

Claude’s eyes went wide. He tilted his head, then turned to Byleth. Claude clearly wanted to reply but couldn’t.

“Thank you Marianne, but you don’t need to apologize. You did nothing wrong.”

“U-um, I’m still sorry…”

Claude bumped his head into Marianne’s hands.

“O-oh! Okay. I’m glad you aren’t upset…”

It was nice watching Marianne talk to Claude.  _ To _ him, unlike the rest of the class. Byleth told them that Claude could understand them, but they still aimed questions at Byleth instead of Claude. Marianne spoke directly to Claude. She had a good grasp on his body language already.

“Oh no, are you cold?” Marianne asked out of the blue. Byleth looked at Claude, but he looked exactly the same as before. “Um, is there anything I can do to help?”

Claude huffed, turning his head away.

“I-it’s okay to be cold… it doesn’t make you, um, weak. It must be very hard to stay warm.”

“It is,” Byleth deadpanned. Claude shot them a wounded look. They extended their arm for him to crawl up, and he finally accepted and settled into his usual position.

Marianne left, having said what she wanted to. Byleth got back to finishing off their lunch. Claude licked his lips, eyeing their remaining skewer.

“You ate yours already. This is mine.”

Claude’s big green eyes stared up at them.

“That’s not going to work.”

Somehow Claude’s eyes got sadder.

“No. You’ll get fat.”

_ “Wheh,” _ he puffed out the little sad sound.

“Dammit,” they hissed, holding out the skewer and offering it to him. They couldn’t stay unhappy at the loss of their lunch though, not with the little happy sounds Claude made as he munched on the meat.

Maybe Sothis had a point about Claude being cute like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GD: What is THAT  
> Byleth: My therapy snake-thing. Obviously. 
> 
> Sothis: He’s babie!  
> Byleth: Don’t say that about him. He’s still Claude  
> Claude: Wheh 🥺  
> Byleth: Holy shit. He’s babie. This is a new emotion.
> 
> Those flashback scenes will be a stable of each new chapter. Some are short, others are long. c: I really like writing bby Claude.


End file.
